Last night I was sitting on the couch reading. Jane was getting ready for bed after a long day, and I was to join her shortly. Then she came out in nothing but a towel.
Stage 1: Denial - I was shocked that she could be so disobedient. Surely she wouldn't have done this. I saw a glistening on her head where it should be dark.
She slowly walked across the living room and into the light where I was reading.
2: Anger - That little bitch did it! She had been planning this, hadn't she? And she caught me off guard; no way to quickly punish her.
She walked closer towards me with a beautiful half smile, her eyes locked onto mine. Waiting for my reaction. Testing me...
3: Bargaining - Perhaps I could fix this. I need to get a grip on her, if I could only get her to grow it again, just to punish her.
She walked over an knelt on the couch, straddling me. Her face next to mine, I reached up to feel where her hair had been just a few minutes before. The smooth feel confirmed what my eyes were telling me.
4: Depression - She had disobeyed me in a way that wasn't correctable. She didn't just wiggle out of some rope, she had drastically changed something. She had challenged my control. What is the point now...
She moaned a bit as I slid my hands along her smooth head. As my hand reached the back of her head, I grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her down onto me. Our lips met for the first time in many months. My bald slut was back.
5: Acceptance - I realize it isn't something that is going to be changed any time soon, so fuck it. A bald head is just another place for a bit of leather, a kiss, and a caress.
I grabbed her into a deep kiss. I slid my hand up the towel to see what else had been shaved, and was not disappointed. We got up and headed back to the bedroom. It was time for me to take control of things again, to bring the bald slut back into my domain. And I had some anger to let out...
I was using a social-networking/dating site a few years ago and started talking to a guy when he saw photos of me with a shaved head. He shared the hair-cutting experiences he had had with his girlfriend, who had recently shaved her head after he had given her a Mohawk. He was a cool guy and we continued to talk.
Several months later, I received a message from a second guy. He is a fellow hair fetishist and deduced from my profile (which didn't outwardly say that shaved heads were a turn-on for me) that we belonged to the same club. He was thrilled to meet someone who shared his kink. Again, cool guy, we kept talking.
Now, the second guy (we will call him Mr. Y) sent me a message on facebook chat last week telling me that he had finally found a girl online (on the same website where we met) who was willing to let him shave her head. Tonight, after doing the deed, he messaged me again on facebook to regale me with his story and endow me with pictures. I am his only friend in the aforementioned club, and he wanted to share his evening with me.
While I was chatting with Mr. Y I received a message from the first guy, who I will call Mr. X. It had been a while since I'd talked to him, so I figured he was just checking in to see what was new. Imagine my surprise when he said, "My girlfriend just had her head shaved."
Both Mr. X and Mr. Y live in the same state on the opposite coast from me, and I was aware of this. Even though they live in different cities and did not know each other, I immediately knew that Mr. Y was Mr. X's girlfriend's barber.
I switched back over to my conversation with Mr. Y and said, "So, this girl's name isn't Ms. X, is it?" Needless to say, he was baffled; how did I know her name?
I told both guys that I knew the other, and everyone was thoroughly shocked and amused. I do have to say that I wasn't entirely shocked, as this sort of thing happens to me all the time, but I was certainly amused. So was Ricardo. Other than my readers here, he was the only person I could talk to about this, since I am not 'out' to the general public.
That is the end of my story for now. I am not feeling particularly prose-y tonight, so I apologize for my lack of focus and segues, and now I will gracelessly bow out without a decent conclusion.
The dreams involve me trying to find a way to cut off my hair or shave my head, but I lose the scissors or the clippers get dull, or my hair grows back faster than I can get rid of it. During these dreams I never succeed before I wake up.
Last night I had the first one I'd had in quite a while. I wasn't supposed to cut my hair because my boyfriend wanted it long (sound familiar?), so I spent the entire time trying to think of a way I could shave it all off without upsetting him. The final solution was to just shave some of it off, and I ended up with a very high undercut shaved to the skin. Dream me was convinced that nobody would be able to tell as long as my hair wasn't in a ponytail, but LucidDream me knew that there was so little hair on the top of my head (it was shaved up past my eyebrows) that it would fool nobody.
I woke up grinding against the bed and wishing my head didn't hurt so much so I could concentrate on fucking myself. Wishing my headache would go away was about as useless as wishing Ricardo would give in to my begging for a smooth scalp during sex.
I've been letting my hair grow for about 3 months now. I really like it. That doesn't keep me from trying to bargain with Ricardo, however. A few weeks ago I tried to get him to keep me bald for a year in exchange for weekly blow jobs. He was very tempted, but he passed on my offer. And even though I do like the way my hair looks I think often about him taking me to the female barber who has been cutting my hair and paying her to shave it all off no matter what I ask her to do to it. She knows I was bald for quite a while before this, so I think she might be convinced that I will not freak out if she shaves my head. The best part about it is that I wouldn't have any idea what was happening until after it was all buzzed off since she generally turns me away from the mirror until she's done.
I will be needing a haircut pretty soon, so my next post might be titled, 'Bald At Last, Bald At Last! Thank God Almighty, I'm Bald At Last.'
Ricardo's biggest gripe with this is that I'm not going to make much progress if I keep getting it cut. If I don't keep it looking tidy, however, I'm going to get annoyed with it and do something drastic. As drastic as it gets when your hair is half an inch long, anyway. I never did like growing my hair out, but I never like looking the same all the time and there's only so much hair I can cut off before I have to start over again.
Not only have I not shaved for several weeks, but I also haven't trimmed my hair at all. One of the things I like about a clipper cut is how precise my hair looks. Right now it's far from precise. I've been telling Ricardo (heh) that I need a haircut for about a week and a half, and I think it might take an ultimatum to get him moving: If he doesn't cut my hair in the next two days, I'm going to do it myself and he will not like the results.
A part of me hopes he doesn't step up on that one...
I had noticed over the last month or so that the routine of shaving had lost some of its appeal because it had become so routine. After just a few days of being denied the privelige I was begging for boyfriend to take me in the bathroom yesterday and shave my head; I plead with him to tell me what I could do to get him to make me bald again.
The prospect of letting my hair grow for the sole purpose of having hair to shave off is great, but I don't want to have to wait for it to grow! It's interesting how so much in life takes so long to be completeled but can be undone with so little effort in such a short amount of time.
Boyfriend and I were driving somewhere yesterday and we had the car windows down. Stopped at a light I heard some music coming from the car next to us. It was one of those legendary songs from almost 50 years ago that everyone knows, but that not many people listen to anymore (think Sonny and Cher, the Village People, etc.). I looked up when I realized what song it was and saw a pretty girl smiling at me. She was leaning forward in the passenger seat so she could see past the woman who was driving.
'I like your haircut,' the driver said. 'I was just talking to my daughter about how great you look. You're very pretty.'
I thanked her, and we chatted for the rest of the light cycle. She would have looked great with a buzz cut and I told her that. The daughter could have rocked it pretty hard too, but I didn't get that in before the light changed.
Shaving my head does seem to have the most effect on me when it's something I'm not doing all the time or haven't done recently. Until a few weeks ago I shaved my head every day for two months; maybe it's time to take a break so it stops feeling routine.
Boyfriend and I were in an amorous mood last night. After he'd cuffed me and forced his hand between my thighs he wanted to ask me a question. I was pretty wanton by this point. When he growled 'how come you have so much hair?' I didn't have an answer. This has to have been one of the only times in our relationship that I didn't have anything to say while he was fucking me; even if I'd had an answer, I don't think I could have made any sounds last night that weren't gutteral and animalistic.